


Apologies

by MagicBiscuit



Category: Legend of Spyro
Genre: Food aversion mentioned, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Mentions of an OC, Mentions of genocide, Post-Canon, au-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicBiscuit/pseuds/MagicBiscuit
Summary: Cyril let out a long and heavy sigh. He knew what he had to do, but doing it wasn't something Cyril was very good at.He knew he had to apologise.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Apologies

It was a dark, rainy autumn evening. The rain was coming down heavily and at high speeds. Most sensible creatures would have sought out shelter at the fall of the first hundred rain drops.

The Ice Guardian wasn't always the most sensible.

A low, frustrated growl escaped his throat as he paced back and forth in the open forest clearing despite the pain it caused his legs. The ground where he walked was covered with a thick layer of ice and it was getting thicker still. All the raindrops that landed on him froze and bounced away like little ice pellets. With the large quantity of them anyone who would walk by later would probably think there'd been a hail storm of ridiculous proportions.

Cyril, however, was too frustrated to notice.

He'd gotten into an argument with Terrador, which was unusual, but not unheard of. Terrador had insisted that Cyril rein in his element more. It was only going to get colder and Cyril's powers could cause unnecessary discomfort for many in Warfang. Cyril knew that. Cyril understood that.

Yet despite knowing it to be logically sound Cyril snapped and told Terrador something he never should have.

He buried his face into one of the trees nearby. Some of the bark peeled off as it was torn away by Cyril's horns and froze.

Every single dragon type and their respective elements were part of this world and its balance. Yet Cyril had gone off and called Terrador a "Filthdragon" before storming off in a huff. To any non-dragon that probably just looked silly, but it was a grave insult to any earth dragon to be called as such. Even the ever stoic Terrador had looked hurt when the words had escaped Cyril's big mouth.

It was all so bloody frustrating.

Terrador's request hadn't been unreasonable. Not at all. Cyril’s Common sense had gotten thrown out the window, however, when his emotions flared up as if he were a young fire dragon. He could make all the excuses in the world, but it wouldn't change the fact of what he'd said was both cruel and wrong. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but each time it did he always hoped it would be the last.

Cyril let out a long and heavy sigh. He knew what he had to do, but doing it wasn’t something Cyril was very good at.

He knew he had to apologise.

It looked so simple on paper. Walk up to Terrador. Say; _"I'm sorry for what I said. It was wrong and I shall endeavour not to do it again."_ or something along those lines. Terrador could forgive him or not, but either way Cyril would go back to his usual frosty self. He would try to anyway.

While Cyril wasn't explosive by nature he knew he had the bad habit of taking things that weren’t meant poorly at all as insults. He was most certainly of the defensive nature. This didn’t lead to altercations most of the time. If Cyril found something hurtful he would simply choke on his emotions and he would choke on them again and again and again and again until he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Pity the creature who would harmlessly say the wrong thing then.

Every single one of his fellow Guardians had been at the receiving end of his ire at least once, but no matter how many times he had been in the situation where he'd been forced to hang his head and admit he'd been wrong he never got any better at it.

Every damnable muscle in his miserable body would tense up causing his already damaged joints to hurt more than what they usually did. His throat would feel like he'd gotten his Ice Breath stuck and he'd hardly be able to speak. He'd even thrown up before attempts in the past. At least he'd been good at hiding that particular flaw.

One would think with the amount of apologising Cyril had to do in his long life he'd actually be good at it.

Cyril was ripped out his thoughts when the poor tree he'd been head-butting fell over. The part where it broke was frozen solid. It was a large tree, much larger than him, and it fell over just like that.

It was only now that Cyril noticed all the ice pellets around him. While he needed his powers to walk he did try to limit his effects on the air. His powers were much like his emotions. They needed to be contained and controlled. If he didn't manage that he'd cause another Dante's Freezer.

Cyril squeezed his eyes shut at that uncomfortable thought.

That was the last thing he wanted.

With a shuddery sigh he turned his nose back towards Warfang. It had yet to feel like home in the same way the Temple had, but it was better than staying out here and getting drenched. Sulking over his situation didn't help much either.

With a simple wave of his tail the frozen raindrops became water again and he started the painful trek back to the large city. He didn't have much of a plan really. "Get back, find Terrador and apologise" were the only things he could really do. Cyril wasn't a fast walker, though, so at least that gave him time to steel himself for later. His stomach being empty was also a plus.

By the time he'd reached Warfang he was soaked and his legs were screaming at him to stop. He couldn't do that yet, however. Not until he'd found Terrador. Cyril looked around the buildings to see if he could find the one given to the three remaining Guardians after the war had ended. Volteer had left ages ago to go on a journey so it was only him and Terrador left. Terrador was often way, though, due to his powers being needed for rebuilding.

While Cyril called the building a “home” it felt more like a prison to him. He never really left the place. Terrador had been right earlier. Cyril loved his element, but he knew very well that he was most likely the only one who did so. For others it was inconvenient at the very best. There was a reason ice dragons had disappeared after all.

It gave him all the more reason to stay inside.

Cyril tried his best to bottle it up, but his powers would sometimes leak. Most of the time it just turned the air a bit colder around him, but there had been incidents he was embarrassed to admit ever happened. His mind flashed back to the frozen hellscape of Dante's Freezer again and he stopped in his tracks.¨

It was no wonder others were wary of him.

He shook his head. He was quite the sorry Guardian. He'd always envied the other three for having other dragons who could teach them about their elements. Cyril had to teach himself back in the day.

When Cyril finally he'd reached his "home" it looked dark, which probably meant that Terrador was either out or asleep. Either way it meant that Cyril had to delay his apology.

Carefully he pushed the door open. He listened for the sound of the deep rumble that was Terrador's snoring, but it was silent. He turned on one of the crystal lamps when he shut the door behind him. He was dripping wet, but the letter Cyril saw on the table most likely meant that he would be the only one to notice.

It was just like any other letter from Terrador explaining where he'd gone and what he'd be doing. Not that it was necessary for him to tell Cyril these things, but he did appreciate it. This time Terrador was not only going out to help the one town or village, but several. Cyril felt his heart sink as he read the next line.

_"I'll be gone for a while."_

Terrador made no mention of their argument as the letter carried on to talk about where Terrador had stored some extra food. That way Cyril didn't have to leave that often.

He sighed as he closed the letter. He'd be alone with his thoughts then or he'd read the few books Volteer had left behind for the umpteen time. How riveting.

Cyril dried himself off as well as cleaned up the floor before heading to bed. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being alone. He'd been alone most of his life!

He'd be fine.

He'd be perfectly fine.

_Perfectly fine._

Cyril would just wait until Terrador came back and then he'd apologise. The guilt he felt wouldn't leave him until did so anyway.

He sighed as he closed his eyes and curled up on his bed.

He just had to wait. He was usually pretty good at that.

So that's what he did.

At first the days had trickled by slowly, but as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months it had all started to blend together. Cyril had only really left his "home" when he needed to restock on food and that wasn't all that often since he wasn't a big eater. His struggles with merely walking were also fairly well known so the residents of Warfang never asked him to help with the rebuilding process. The city was almost as good as new anyway.

On some lucky days a letter from Volteer would show up. They were always long and detailed. Volteer went on and on for several pages about where he’d been, what he’d seen and the things he had experienced. Sometimes he even made little drawings to go with them. Cyril always loved those letters and read them over and over again. It was exciting, like a little bit of the new world Spyro and Cynder had forged came to him in his designated little corner.

But Volteer's letters were rare and Terrador never wrote them when he was out. Cyril would have to make due with himself most of the time.

Many months passed like this, through autumn, winter and spring. Cyril had cheered up a bit during winter. The cold season was comforting. Sometimes he'd even go out into the little garden they had just to lie in the snow. It turned to be a short winter, however, so when spring arrived Cyril had already retreated back inside.

It was at the beginning of summer that Cyril would get his chance again. He'd been dozing, hoping that sleep would help him escape from the painful heat, when the door had been pushed open.

The house rarely, if ever, got visitors and since there wasn't any knock on the door that didn't leave that many options on whom it might be.

Terrador looked completely unchanged from the last time Cyril saw him, a mighty green dragon covered from head to toe with scars. He supposed that was one of the good things about the earth dragons. They were predictable. Cyril liked predictability.

Terrador's eyes landed on Cyril who was still in his corner. He’d only managed to lift his head in Terrador's general direction before the earth dragon was already inside.

"It's been a while, Cyril" he said simply. Cyril shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant as he slowly rose to his feet. "That it has," Cyril said matter-of-factly, "How did the rebuilding go?"

Terrador lay down on the closest thing they had to a living room floor. Cyril tried not to wince as he noticed all of the dust. Cyril had stuck to his corner so all other rooms in the house weren't exactly clean. Had Cyril known Terrador was coming back today he'd make an effort at least.

Terrador didn't take much notice, though, as he gave a low rumble of a hum. He seemed happy at least.

"It went well," he said, "But it did take a bit longer than expected."

That was one way of putting it. Terrador had been gone for a month at most before. That was nothing compared to half a year. The guilt Cyril felt had grown and festered all that time. His claws sank into the ice beneath him. He hated this feeling.

Seemingly ignorant to his thoughts Terrador spoke again.

"What about you, Cyril?" he said, "What have you been up to?"

It took every ounce of willpower that Cyril had not to bark a bitter laugh as he walked towards Terrador. He wasn't the reason Cyril was the way he was. His fellow Guardian had received enough of his venom.

While his body language appeared to be relaxed to the average beholder everything inside of Cyril was a raging blizzard. Refusing to let any of it show Cyril lowered his head to the point to where it was almost touching the ground. He couldn't even look at Terrador.

"I'm sorry."

His words were deceptively calm. He could feel Terrador's green eyes resting on his pathetic form. Every part of Cyril fought to not have a violent outburst of ice.

"Before you left I said something cruel that I shouldn't have. It was foolish at best and I apologise."

There. That was it. Whatever happened next depended on Terrador.

"Oh?"

Terrador's tone sounded confused for a moment before shifting to a more understanding one.

"Ah, that!" He said as if it was no big deal, "Lift your head, Cyril. I had all, but forgotten."

Cyril didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Here he was, completely stuck, while Terrador had forgotten the entire ordeal.

He slowly raised his head. The anticlimactic nature of the entire exchange had him stumped. He supposed he could go back to "normal" now, but that wasn't all that different from what he'd been doing these past few months.

Terrador was still watching him as Cyril lay down as well. It was much easier on his body.

"Have you been eating properly, Cyril?" Terrador asked bluntly. Despite having known each other for years his blunt approach to things still caught Cyril off guard every now and then.

Cyril turned his eyes towards his sides. They looked normal to him at least.

"I've been eating how I usually eat." Cyril said as he turned his head back towards Terrador. The bulkier of the two dragons sighed.

"So 'No' in other words."

Cyril wasn't quite sure if he was offended or not, but before he could argue one way or the other Terrador continued.

"Your ribs are sticking out again." He said as he shook his head, "for such a proud dragon warrior you care little for your body."

Cyril couldn't really argue against that so he just looked the other way. "You know very well that I'm not fond of eating." he said, "that shouldn't be news to you."

Terrador brought his paw to his face as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his claws. "That cannot be healthy." he mumbled before clearing his throat.

"All of that aside I did come back for a reason, Cyril."

Cyril turned his gaze back towards Terrador as he spoke. Did he need a special reason to come back?

"I'm heading out soon. Volteer wants my help with an excavation project of his. Ancient ruins he says."

Cyril tried his best not to let his disappointment show as he felt his heart sink. He really didn't want a repeat of the past few months. While it was not all that different from when Terrador was there being trapped in a house while having someone you could talk to every once in a while was very different from being trapped in a house all by your lonesome.

"I see," he said, "how long do you think you'll be gone this time?"

For a moment Cyril thought he saw Terrador's expression turn into one of guilt, but he brushed it aside as Terrador answered his question.

"I don't know," he said, "but that's not the entire story."

"Volteer wants you there as well."

Cyril blinked slowly as the words sank in. Once they did he frowned in confusion.

"Whatever for?" he asked flatly. His element did many things. Gentle excavation of ruins was not one of them.

A gentle smile spread across the earth dragon’s battle worn face. That wasn’t something that had happened often, especially not directed at Cyril himself.

"He believes them to be old ice dragon ruins, Cyril."

His words were so soft, so unlike the collected warrior Cyril was used to. It was almost enough to make Cyril drop his guard completely. Almost.

"I thought everything had been destroyed by the fire dragons."

In all his life he'd never thought he'd ever hear word of anything of his kind still existing. The only thing he really had left of his culture was stories the High Priestess had told him when he was very, very young.

That didn't mean Cyril had meant anything special by his choice of words, however. By the time he'd hatched there were hardly any ice dragons left. After the High Priestess died there'd only been him. As far as he was aware once he died the ice dragons would be a thing of the past. That was just the simple truth of things.

Despite that, though, Terrador's expression darkened as he turned his gaze to the floor.

A heavy silence filled the room.

Cyril had a strange relationship to the whole thing. Ice dragons had been hunted and killed by other dragons, mostly fire dragons, for many, many generations. Their homes were razed to the ground. Their stories were burned. Their temples and holy grounds torn to shreds. The Guardians’ Temple was one of the few places that he knew of that had even a trace of them left.

There was a part of him that was incredibly bitter about the whole thing and he struggled to trust, but he had to admit there was a part of him that understood why it was that way.

Cyril loved his element. He was proud of it, yet he couldn't deny its destructive nature. He himself was living proof. If every single ice dragon had powers like his, then it was really no wonder that the other dragons wanted to do away with them.

"Don't."

Cyril was bought out of his musings by Terrador's hard voice. His eyes felt like they saw right through Cyril. Before he could ask what was wrong Terrador continued.

"You're a lot more transparent than you'd like to believe, Cyril."

Terrador sat up and laid down again directly in front of him. He was usually so calm and collected. The sudden intensity was enough to make Cyril feel uneasy.

"And I'm telling you not to think like that. Never."

Cyril broke the eye contact that Terrador had forced, but didn't say anything.

"I'm certain Ignitus would have told you the same thing. He always said that what happened to the ice dragons were the fire dragons' biggest shame."

That was news to him. Cyril and Ignitus had never really talked about it. Cyril saw no reason to blame someone who had nothing to do with anything and Ignitus himself had never brought it up. He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with that information.

After what felt like an eternity Terrador got up again and used his horns to gently nudge at Cyril.

"Come along now," he said, "It'd be better than being holed up in here for months on end."

Cyril sighed heavily through his nose. So Terrador knew about that as well, huh. He wasn't sure how he felt about being such an open book-the entire point was that he couldn't let it out into the open.

He did have to admit, though, that being at least somewhat understood was kind of reassuring.

Cyril slowly rose to his feet knowing full well that Terrador could easily just drag him kicking and screaming wherever he wanted and while he would never admit it, the idea of the three remaining Guardians getting to spend some time together again did sound pleasant.

"So how long will it take for us to get there?" Cyril asked as Terrador half-encouraged, half-pushed him through the door.

"A while," Terrador replied, "the ruins were incredibly well hidden. Volteer suspects that it was at made at least after the first fire dragon attack."

Cyril didn't say anything as Terrador took the lead while he tried to ignore to odd looks he got from the residents of Warfang. That still made the ruins rather old.

They were both slow walkers, Cyril due to old wounds and Terrador due to being an earth dragon. At least that made their paces even. It was Terrador that prevented silence to fall between them.

"By the way Cyril, I'm also sorry."

Cyril gave Terrador a side-ways glance as they walked. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Terrador didn't look at him. "I told you to reign in your powers while knowing full well the amount of pressure you’re under to do so already. It was short-sighted and I prioritised others well-being while completely ignoring yours. I am sorry."

This time it was Terrador who lowered his head. Cyril coughed as he awkwardly looked away. "Its fine," he said, "I understood where you came from. It was logically sound."

Terrador raised his head again. "And I understood your anger." He said. "I suppose that makes us even."

"I suppose it does." Cyril agreed as they closed in on the exit to Warfang. He turned his head back towards the direction of their house. It wasn't a place he could really call "home", but it was also where he lived. He preferred to have one place and stick to it. He most certainly wasn’t the kind to go on journeys.

The ground underneath him shifted slightly which was Terrador's way of encouraging him forward. He turned back around again as he continued with pained steps.

Cyril knew he wasn't the most sensible.

He was grateful that Terrador, at least, didn't seem to mind.


End file.
